


How Argus Filch Met the Queen of England, Sort of

by freyja_luna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyja_luna/pseuds/freyja_luna
Summary: In the wee hours of the morning, Filch performs a Hamlet-esque soliloquy to Mrs. Norris about his love for the Queen of England.
Relationships: Argus Filch & Mrs Norris





	How Argus Filch Met the Queen of England, Sort of

Filch stumped down the corridor, his bones creaking from the cold, while Mrs. Norris padded along on quiet paws. He counted the flickering candles in the candelabra as he went: four-hundred and twenty-one, four-hundred and twenty-two, four-hundred and-

“There, there, Mrs. Norris. See this one’s gone out, love,” he said. He used the matchbox in his raggedy coat pocket to relight it. “You stay lit, yeah?” He said this last bit to the previously unlit candle, pointing an accusing finger at it. 

He resumed his stiff walk, lip curled in a perpetually nasty expression. His limp, greasy hair (or, what little of it he had left) hung down to his shoulders and shed the odd grey strand onto the back of his Muggle coat. 

Mrs. Norris meowed once. 

“You alright there, love?” he asked. 

She blinked back with her yellow, lamp-like eyes. 

“Fancy a midnight tale, my love?”

Her ratty tail flicked once as she held it straight up in the air. 

Filch stooped with some difficulty to pick her up, and she set up shop in his arms as he straightened upright, his knee joints groaning in protest. “Which tale do you want, Mrs. Norris?” he said. His gnarled, knobby hand moved over her head in a comforting gesture. 

Mrs. Norris purred. 

“I know just what I’ll tell, my dear.” Filch cleared his throat and began: “D’you know what I’d do if I met the most lovely Queen of England, Mrs. Norris?”

Her bones vibrated with another purr. 

“Why, I’ve always dreamt of it. Her Majesty is so beautiful, such a lovely monarch. I’d give a lot to meet her just once in my life, to lay eyes upon her. I may be just a lowly commoner, but Her Majesty has always treated her subjects so very well. Y’see, I’d be blinded by her beauty and grace, and I’d shield my eyes for fear I’d go mad from seeing her in the flesh. I dare say I’d be at a loss for words, stuttering like the common peasant I am. And she’d smile so radiantly…”

Mrs. Norris meowed for him to continue. 

“Sorry, love. I get carried away when I think about her.” Filch cleared his throat and continued. “She’d say, ‘Hello, my loyal subject. By what name do they call you?’ and I’d reply, clutching my hat humbly in my hands, bowing my head in the right proper way, ‘My name is Argus Filch, Your Majesty. It is the greatest honour of my life to lay eyes upon you.’ And, you know, Mrs. Norris, the noble Prince Phillip would be there with her. ‘What an excellent subject, this man is! A most fine and loyal British commoner. My good man, it is an honour to make the acquaintance of our many loyal servants such as yourself.’”

Filch sniffled and wiped his teary eyes as he turned to pass through another corridor. “My dear Mrs. Norris, I’d be a happy man ’til the day I died if I could but meet Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second just once. And that Prince Phillip ought to treat her well and proper, as befits Her Highness.”

The cat yawned and groomed a front paw. 

“I may be but a lowly commoner, but if that Prince doesn’t treat her well- husband or not- he’ll… He’ll have me to answer to, Mrs. Norris. That’s fitting, eh? He’ll have her most loyal and devoted subject to answer to, mark my words. How does that sound, love?” He ran an arthritic hand over the cat’s matted fur. “Fancy meeting the Queen too?” He withdrew a Muggle tabloid magazine about the Queen’s recent Diamond Jubilee and waved it in front of the cat’s face. “You see this, Mrs. Norris?” He flipped it open to a middle page. “Our Majesty has always been a horse rider, for her whole life, and she still does ride. Say she’s got a beautiful touch and way with all animals, they do. All animals, big and small.”

Mrs. Norris leapt from his arms and resumed her silent padding beside him. 

Fat tears ran down Filch’s greasy, wrinkled-parchment face as he looked at the glossy spread before him. “And look here, my love. She’s even taught her son Prince Charles to ride, and he’s said she was such a patient teacher. If only-” He paused to wipe his eyes with a soot-stained handkerchief from his coat pocket. “Mrs. Norris, how I’d die a happy man to hold the reins of her horse, leading her around the grounds of Buckingham Palace as her groom. Never could I do a finer thing in my life.” He flipped the page to a reissued photo of the Queen and her immediate family: her husband, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh; and her children Charles, Prince of Wales; Anne, Princess Royal; Prince Andrew, Duke of York; and Prince Edward, Earl of Wessex. 

Filch’s thoughts turned sour as he was reminded of something. “And that goddamned bugger Peeves, singing lewd and most offensive songs about Her Majesty, unbefitting of her beauty and royalty. How dare he, Mrs. Norris? How can he- such a vile, loathsome creature as he is- dare to speak of Her Majesty?” 

The cat hissed in agreement.

“How brutish, my love, insulting Her Majesty to wage a war against me. The audacity of that ghoulish bugger! If I could, I’d get rid of him, but we don’t know how. Do we, Mrs. Norris? We’ve tried everything, but it seems he can’t be killed, eh?”

Filch stopped to replace a candle that had burnt low in its holder with a fresh one from his pocket. It took him several tries to light the match while he cursed his old, shaky hands. The match flared and he lit the candle, grinning to reveal a mouth of crooked, yellow teeth. 

“Now, love, have I told you about Her Majesty’s son?” he said to his cat as he resumed his laboured walk down the corridor. 

Mrs. Norris paused briefly to clean her whiskers with a paw, her foul yellow eyes devoid of emotion. 

“Well, you see, that Prince Charles, Her Highness’s eldest child, what a right git he is. He always likes causing trouble for Her Majesty.”

She blinked. 

“Yes, Mrs. Norris, exactly like these filthy students at Hogwarts, eh? Causing all sorts of trouble for us. Why, perhaps I’d even present my chains to Her Majesty, ask if she ever fancied using them on her eldest? I always keep them well-oiled, ready to use at any time. No matter. Her Majesty will see fit to do with her trouble-making son what she must, Mrs. Norris.” He perked up suddenly. “But we need the Prince of Wales around, because then Her Majesty will appear on the telly in Westminster Abbey, in her finest regalia for her son’s wedding. About time he was married off, eh? Make him good for something, that bugger. Mrs. Norris, I’d pay an arm and a leg to be there at the royal wedding and to see the Queen in her finest clothes, casting her authority over the crowds.” 

Filch smiled to himself and stumped along down the corridor. Only this time, as he began counting the candles in the candelabra again, making sure that none were out of order, he did so with a simpering smile on his face. After all, there was nothing that made Argus Filch happier than thinking about his beloved Royal Majesty Elizabeth II, the Queen of England. 


End file.
